


Turn the Page

by The_Selective_Participater



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ASL, Brother Feels, Comforting Sam, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Dean, Gen, Hugs, Humor, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Pie, Protective Sam, Sharing a Bed, Sick Dean, Whump, mention of self-harm, my sorry attempt at humor, pie is love pie is life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Selective_Participater/pseuds/The_Selective_Participater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things Sam didn’t know about Dean and One thing Dean didn’t know about Sam.<br/>Basically a 5+1 story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. *sob*  
> But I can dream can't I?

Anyone who spent any amount of time with Dean in his precious impala was at some time subjected to what Dean would call singing. Sam thought croaking was a better description of the belted noises that accompanied the classic rock and mullet rock that was always blaring through Baby’s speakers. It was almost routine.

“You sound like a bag of angry cats, Dean.”

“Bite me.”

Sam would scowl; Dean would flash that wolfish grin of his, the one that let his brother know how much his displeasure amused him to no end, and slapped his hands against the steering wheel belting out the next verse.

They were in another no tell motel somewhere in Michigan when Sam opened their room door, juggling Dean’s fast food and his Caesar salad, when he froze. The bathroom door was slightly ajar and over the din of the running shower he heard it. Dean singing; but it wasn’t his usual theatrical mess but… beautiful. He quietly shut the door behind him and carefully places the food on the small table before sitting on the ground in front of the bed closest to the bathroom.

 _I’m gonna take a little time, a little time to think things over_  
_I better read between the lines, in case I need it when I’m older_  
_Now this mountain I must climb, feels like the world upon my shoulder_  
_Through the clouds I see love shine, it keeps me warm as life grows colder_

_In my life, there’s been heartache and pain_

At this Dean pauses and all that is heard is the sound of running water. Sam opens his eyes that he didn’t even notice were closed in the first place and listens. Dean starts again voice heavy with emotion.

_I don’t know if I can face it again_

The sound of the shower is abruptly cut but Dean continues to sings, his voice clearer. For a moment Sam wonders how he’s gone his whole life without knowing that his big brother, the one person he spent his whole life trying to imitate, can keep something so significant, so amazing, a secret for so long.

 _Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far_  
_To change this lonely life_

 _I want to know what love is_  
_I want you to show me_  
_I want to feel what love is_  
_I know you can show me-_

Dean steps out of the bathroom in his boxers, towel flung over a shoulder and freezes when he sees him sitting against the bed watching him. He ducks his head, ears burning a bright pink. He’s embarrassed, but for the life of him Sam can’t figure out why. But what he does know is that Dean is hurting. _In my life, there’s been heartache and pain, I don’t know if I can face it again._ His older brother has spent his whole life reinforcing and perfecting his defenses. Every now and then Sam would catch a glimpse past the barrier to the broken man inside but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. Before he can talk himself out of it he is off the ground and wrapping his arms around his brother. Surprised Dean remains frozen, stiff with tension. Sam squeezes harder pressing his hands flat against bare skin, he presses his cheek against Dean’s stubble trying to convey with his whole being I got you, you’re not alone, I love you. After a few seconds he feels Dean melt into the embrace, arms going up to grip onto Sam’s shirt as if afraid if he loosens up just a little bit he would disappear forever. Sam knows it not an instant fix but it’s a start.

 

 _I’ve got no where left to hide_  
_It looks like love has finally found me._


	2. Chapter 2

They’re undercover at some fancy schmancy music academy. St. Joseph’s Academy for the Musically Gifted he thinks its called or something else equally pretentious. Four students all killed in freak accidents involving their primary instruments. Two days ago another student dies, throat slit open with strings from his violin. It wasn’t enough to go the usual Federal agent route; they need to investigate from the inside. Charlie was happy enough to forge the necessary documentation and so far the interview was going really well. Sam was glad that Dean chose to dim the charm factor quite a bit. From the perpetual scowl the woman interviewing them was sporting she would not be impressed. Mrs. Rossenbuan, the little silver name plate states.

Once again she frowned down at the files opened up on the desk in front of her.

“Mr. Richards, I see you attended The Colburn Conservatory of Music.” _Whatever the hell that is_. Sam nodded in affirmative.

“Music theory… intriguing. We have several new classes and have yet to find anyone quite as suitable.”

“Mr. Connick.” She turned her attention towards Dean who returned her scrutinizing gaze with a carefully open expression. An I’ve-got-nothing-to-hide-lady smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You yourself have attended _Juilliard_.” She continues the last word emphasized with disbelief.

“Yes, that’s correct.” The eldest Winchester replies without missing a beat.

“It also says that you play the piano, very well I assume since you _were_ a student of _Juilliard_.”

“Quite well.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind giving me a demonstration then, yes?”

Crap. Sam shifted in his seat. This wasn’t part of the plan. Not at all. Now he regretted not giving Dean a simple background similar to his own. _But no_ , he just had to complicate things.

“Uh, I’m sure you’re very busy-” He interjected.

“Nonsense!” Rossenbuan smiled ghoulishly. _This bitch_. “My schedule is fairly uneventful today. Now if you don’t mind.” She smiled at Dean gesturing towards the black grand piano sitting on the far side of the room. Dean retains eye contact for all of three seconds before he is walking over to the piano. He slides his fingers reverently over the smooth, polished black surface before sitting on the bench in front of it. Sam watches gut clenching anxiously; he had no idea how Dean was going to get out of this. They’ve faked and cheated their way out of many things over the years but nev-

His train of thought comes to a screeching halt.

He watches speechless as his brother’s fingers steadily and confidently glide across the keys. Playing something familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to it. There was no sheet music so this was something he knew well enough to have memorized it. He risked a look at Mrs. Rossenbuan and was surprised a look of pure serenity gracing her once unpleasant expression. He returned his attention back to Dean who finished the last few notes with a small flourish. He turned on the bench to face Mrs. Rossenbuan a wistful expression that was quickly replaced by his carefully crafted neutral one.

“Mr. Connick. I-that was magnificent! We must have you here at the academy. I will not have no for an answer.”

Dean smiled, a genuine one.

“It would be my absolute pleasure.”

……………………….

Three days later found them in the impala on their way to El Paso, Texas for a possible Chupacabra hunt. The drive was a silent one, not the usual companionable silence but something thick and heavy. Ever since they solved the case a few days back (turns out it was a student/amateur witch exacting revenge on those who “wronged her”) Dean has been uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn. Sam risked another sidelong glance noting the clenched jaw and white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“Ok, what Sam?”

Startled Sam snapped his attention back to the winding road in front of them.

“What?” He replied feigning ignorance.

“You think I don’t notice all the sly glances and annoying little sighs? Just spill it already; you’re driving me nuts here.”

Well. He thought he was being inconspicuous but that was a consequence of practically living inside each others pockets for so long, it was nearly impossible to keep anything from each other. Turning to face his brother he asked what was on his mind since the interview.

“Since when did you know how to play the damn piano, Dean? I don’t ever remember ever seeing any type of instrument growing up or owning one. And you can’t say it’s some kind of passing hobby cause what you played was…was…” He waved his hand in the space between them looking for a word to describe exactly what he thought.

“Otherworldly.” Yes, the word fit perfectly.

Dean remained silent for a few beats before answering in a subdued tone.

“Mom… she started to teach me before…before everything happened. After…it happened I kind of continued to teach myself, kinda.” He scratched the back of his ear with one hand, the other still gripping the steering wheel. “Most of the time when I’d be ‘playing pool at the bar’ or ‘trolling for chicks’ I uh would be at whatever community center there was in whatever town we were in taking lessons.” The car was silent for almost an hour when Dean spoke in a voice barely over a whisper.

“It was one of her favorites, the song I played”

Sam remained silent but reached over resting his hand on the back of his brother’s neck rubbing small reassuring circles right at the edge of his hairline with his thumb. He hummed the tune his brother so passionately loved under his breath.

Dean smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean came and got him from Stanford he didn’t find it weird that his brother’s affinity for long sleeved clothing hadn’t changed. In fact a lot of things about Dean didn’t change, his cocky grin, his swaggering attitude, his promiscuity. His protective nature towards any and everyone he cared about, the unrelenting abyss of guilt and self recrimination he refused to let anyone drag him out of. Some of these things angered the youngest Winchester to no end but it was what made Dean, _Dean_ , and for that he was grateful.

It was subtle, nearly insignificant things that set off the warning bells in his mind. The brothers never really had the luxury of privacy. Changing in the same room was nothing special. It was for the very reason that he found it peculiar when Dean would not only go into the bathroom to change but he’d lock the door behind him as well. Even changing his over shirt, after Sam “accidently” spilled dressing on it, warranted a trip to a secure location.

Sam got it. It wasn’t like when he left for Stanford they separated on the best of terms. Their relationship would probably never be the same after that and it made sense if Dean wasn’t as comfortable around him as he once was. It just…hurt a bit. It took him even longer to notice his brother’s impromptu disappearances but when he did it worried him. He knew it was different then when he snuck out to the closest dive bar (he’d try to sneak in quietly but had the subtlety of a wrecking ball) or one of his one night stands ( he’d immediately head to shower). When the elder Winchester came back from wherever he snuck off to his movements were stiff, more deliberate, almost as if he were in pain. That hurt more than Dean’s sudden bid for privacy. The thought that his brother was hurting and didn’t feel comfortable enough to come to him for help left his chest feeling tight with emotion.

 

It all goes downhill after Dad dies.

 

“Hey Dean, didn’t we stock up on supplies last week?”

“Yeah, why?” Dean answers, voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“Nothing. Never mind.” But it wasn’t nothing. Around the same time that he noticed Dean’s disappearances and his sudden urge to change behind locked doors, he’d also noticed the salves they used for minor cuts along with bandages would run out more often than anything else they had. Sam really didn’t want to jump to conclusions but it was obvious that his brother was hiding something from him. Now that he thought about it, Dean had been wearing long sleeved shirts instead of his usual T’s to sleep as well.

Its after another disappearance followed by another long stint in the bathroom that Sam finally gives in. When Dean finally leaves the bathroom in a long sleeved T, walking stiffly to his bed before sliding beneath the covers, he waits till his brother’s breath even out before he gets up and fires up his laptop. After two hours of research he closes the lid of the laptop, hands shaking. He looks over at Dean who mutters before turning over and falling still. His chest tightens and his stomach rolls dangerously so he breathes in and out slowly and deliberately for a few minutes. It just couldn’t be possible. Not his strong, larger than life big brother. Sam knew that their father’s death had taken a toll on the young hunter. Dean idolized John and now he was gone and Dean of course blamed himself. But this… All his searching kept circling around to the same thing.

_Self-harm._

The secretiveness, locking himself away, the missing supplies, the long sleeves; the evidence is damning. He vows to talk to talk to Dean, force him to talk. Whatever it takes.

…………………………….

 

Turns out it wasn’t just one Black dog, not even two but three very angry and very vicious Black dogs. Dean shoots the first one and Sam gets the unexpected second one. All is quiet until Dean grunts, having been barreled down by a black streak. Dean manages to kick the beast back and scrambles across the ground to grab the shotgun that flew out of his grasp. His hand closes around the barrels right as the Black dog slashes across his side. The agony is so great that his grip loosens on the gun and the beast is upon him. Just as the animal starts to clamp on the delicate flesh of his throat a shot rings out and it drops.

Having been thrown after the Black dog barreled into his brother, Sam took a couple seconds to shake the fog that was threatening to drag him into unconsciousness all the while searching for his weapon on the dark forest floor. Why the hell do we hunt these things when its dark as hell? He finds the shotgun just in time and fires a round directly into the beast’s head which promptly falls directly on top of Dean. Of course. He jogs over and with a harsh shove pushes the corpse over and off Dean who is pale and too still. Panic settles in for a moment before Dean opens his eyes and shoots him a grimace disguised as a smile.

“Hey. Y’get it?” He croaks.

“Yeah, you jerk. Y’scared the shit out of me man.” Sam replied while helping his brother to his feet for the trek back to the car. Luckily it wasn’t that far.

“Aww, Sammy cares. How sweet.” Dean retorted reaching over to pinch his cheek harder than necessary.

“Shut up, I _will_ drop you.”

……………………….

“Dean if you don’t let me do this I swear to God I’ll knock you out and do it anyway! You need stitches and you can’t do it yourself!”

“You wouldn’t dare bitch.” Dean replies eerily calm from his position leaning against the headboard.

Sam looks at the tight line of his brother’s jaw and thinks now is as good a time as any. Sitting on the bed across from his brother he puts on his puppy-left-on-the-side-of-the-road face and in a soft voice usually reserved for the people they interview he speaks.

“I know Dean.”

“Know what?” Dean replies without looking at him.

“About you hurting yourself, the self-harm.”

“What? The fuck are you talking about?” Dean finally turns to look at him, a look of pure bewilderment. “ I’m not…self-harming, where’d you get that idea from?”

Sam stares at his brother. He expected denial but Dean’s expression is open and genuinely confused, but on the other hand he was an amazing actor when he needed to be.

“The long sleeves, the missing supplies, locking the bathroom door-“

“Oh. _Ooh_.” Dean interrupts, looking away again. He clears his throat before returning his attention back to Sam.

“Listen, I’m sorry for making you…worry or whatever but I’m not cutting myself or whatever you think. Uh I have been keeping something from you but its not really that big of a deal. I just… I just didn’t how to bring it up. Just promise me you won’t freak out ok?”

Hearing that his brother wasn’t intentionally hurting himself was a huge relief but as Dean started to slowly remove his shirt he couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy. What was so bad that Dean was willing to risk bleeding out rather than let his own brother know about it.

Dean removed his final layer leaving his bare skin to be scrutinized.

“There.” He said once again turning his head to avoid his brother’s eyes.

“Wha-“ Sam closes his mouth with an audible snap.

His brother’s skin was covered in a plethora of intricate tattoos. They covered the expanse of his back and chest weaving down across his abdomen and lower back to disappear into the waist band of his jeans. The designs covering his shoulders stopped just at the delicate skin of his wrist, hence the long sleeves. Without thinking he reached forward and traced a finger over an intricate feather design and Dean finally looked at him.

“So all those times you disappeared?”

“Late night tattoo parlors. Sometimes when I get the urge… I just... have to go you know.”

“The supplies?”

“Tattoos are made by tiny needles piercing your skin over and over, I bleed, and they help.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked tracing a tattoo that was making the urge to ignore the no chick-flick moments rule and hug the shit out of his older brother. It was his name written directly over Dean’s heart. If he ever needed proof that even with the way things were when he left for Stanford that he and Dean were going to be alright, this was it.

“Thought you would think it was…weird.”

Placing his palm against the warm skin over his name, over his brother’s heart, he replied with as much conviction and emotion he could put in his words.

“They’re _beautiful_.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sam’s on the phone with Dean when it happens.

“Dude, this is _heaven_. This is literally heaven.”

“Its just pie, Dean.” Sam replied from his position sprawled across the bed in his boxers absentmindedly flicking through the channels. A strangled sound comes through the connection and he frowns.

“Just pie?!” Dean finally answers. “Well you’re just a bitch.”

“You’re seriously gonna get defensive over pie? What is your life man.”

“If I don’t defend it who will? I, Dean, Protector of Pastries, must stand up to monsters like you who have not a single taste bud.”

Sam tries to stifle his laugher but it comes out as a very loud and very embarrassing snort. He can practically sense his brother’s smug grin over the phone.

“Oh I forgot to ask, what was the name of that fru-fru bullshit coffee that you drink?”

“Its not fru-fru Dean. Just because you like to drink sewer sludge doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.”

“Don’t be such a bitch. I’m getting it for you aren’t I? Besides I-“

The words are cut off by a deafening sound that has Sam pulling the phone away from his ear with a wince. _What the hell?_ Sitting up he slowly put the phone against his ear and froze. He could hear the sound of a woman screaming hysterically in the background, other voices shouting for someone to _call 911_.

“Dean!?” He has no clue what just happened but he needed the reassurance that his brother was ok but there was no answer. Sam was dressed in under three minutes and out the door before he remembered that Dean had the impala. Panic began to settle in when he realized that he didn’t even know what establishment his brother was in. He hadn’t bothered to ask and how was he supposed to get to him and what if he was hurt and-

Sam doubled over working on getting his breathing back under control. He couldn’t function, couldn’t help Dean if he panicked. Looking around the practically vacant motel lot he noticed a small beat up Toyota and made his way to it, all the while making sure there were no witnesses. Using his elbow he smashed the glass in and opened the door before dusting the shards of glass of the seat as quickly as possible. Hotwiring the vehicle took less than a minute, impressive considering how much his hands were shaking. Just his luck right as he pulled off making his way into town he heard the telltale sounds of multiple sirens. Following the emergency response vehicles he came to a halt gripping the steering wheel, mind reeling at the sight before him. The building was nearly completely destroyed, one section completely leveled, dark black smoke billowing into the sky above. Firefighters worked quickly trying to control the flames that continued to burn despite their best efforts. EMTs were loading the seriously wounded into ambulances while other’s assessed the people who were milling around in the parking lot dazed. Sam threw the car into park right there in the middle of the road and was in the face of an EMT before he could blink.

“Was there a man in there, dark blond hair, green eyes, leather jacket?”

“Sir, please step back. The injured are being taken to St. Paul’s Medical Center. You can get more information there.” Sam resisted the urge to grab the man and shake him until he got the answers he needed but instead he got back in the stolen vehicle and broke every speed limit possible.

The nurses at the hospital were much more helpful and he thanked anyone who was listening because he didn’t know if he could stop himself from hauling off on the next person who didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear.

Gas leak. The deafening sound he heard earlier was an explosion. A freaking explosion and Dean was caught in the middle of it. _Good ol’ Winchester luck._

“Mr. Wesson?” Sam startled at the familiar alias standing up to meet the nurse.

“Yeah, that’s my brother. Is he ok, can I see him?”

She smiled kindly before answering. “ He’s doing ok, he sustained minor injuries. The doctor will be in later to talk to you both. He’s in room 541, you can see him now.”

Sam gave his thanks before practically sprinting towards Dean’s room. Stepping into the room he was met with Dean’s bare back exposed through a standard hospital gown. Standing in front of him was a short brunette nurse who was moving her hands in a series of movements every now and then coming up to touch her mouth.

Sign Language.

Weird considering his brother wasn’t deaf, it was obviously a mistake. He stepped further into the room and stopped when he realized once the lady paused in her movements Dean nodded and began moving his hands in a similar fashion. The movements were quicker and more precise but it was still recognizable.

The nurse looked up at Sam standing there awkwardly before signing something back to Dean who immediately turned around to face him. He grinned before turning towards the nurse and signed something that made her snort and look at Sam more closely. Feeling self conscious he turned towards Dean.

“Hey man, you ok?” Dean frowned at him but didn’t answer. Instead he turned towards the woman and signed something short before turning back to him expectantly.

“Mr. Wesson-“

“Sam.” He automatically replied all the while frowning at his brother who just stared at him with that expectant look.

“Sam, I’m Jackie. Dean here just wanted to let you know that he’s fine. He had a few cuts that need stitching and a very mild concussion. He is also suffering from hearing loss but I assure you that it is only temporary and he should be back to his regular self in no time. The-“

She turned her attention back to Dean who waved his hand to get her attention. He signed something and Jackie nodded before laughing.

“Like I was saying, the doctor will be with you guys in a bit. I’m going to find some paper and pens so you guys can talk okay?”

Sam nodded and Jackie made her leave.

Dean sighed scooting further up on the hospital bed until his back rested against the headboard. Sam dragged the chair as close to the bed as possible and stared blatantly at his brother’s face as he did the same. After a few minutes he broke the silence, carefully mouthing his words.

“You ok?” Dean raised his thumb in affirmative. Jackie came in with the pens and paper and left to check on her other patients. Sam bent over the paper on his lap, writing quickly.

_Leave it to you to get hurt getting breakfast._

Sam laughed at his brother’s extended middle finger.

_So when did you learn sign language? I mean I didn’t know you could._

“After mom died I kinda stopped talking for a while. Dad enrolled me in a special school for the mute and deaf. A year and a half I think.”

 _And you still remember it after all these years?_ Dean flushed.

“I still practice, I’m fluent now. It’s just. I have this thing about languages.”

_Languages? Do you speak other languages?_

“Yeah. Besides ASL, French, Spanish, German, and uh a couple others. Not a big deal.”

 _Not a big deal._ Sam looks up at his brother incredulously who has the nerve to look sheepish. His brother who constantly teases him about the random trivia that swims around in the ‘freak head of his’ yet speaks who knows how many languages.

 _Dude, that’s frickin amazing! Of course it’s a big deal. You said a couple others? That’s more than five different languages Dean-_ He stops when he remembers those days after Dean broke  
his leg. All that time watching Spanish soap operas, Dean actually knew what was being said. Sam assumed he followed purely through context.

 _Wow Dean, Wow._ His brother shrugs but smiles. They sit in companionable silence waiting for the doctor. Sam waits until Dean reaches over to take a drink from the cup of water brought in earlier to ask.

_So I guess international porn is just regular porn to you huh?_

Sam guffaws as Dean chokes on the water and it splashes on his hospital gown. Dean flips the bird again but Sam is too busy laughing to care.


	5. Chapter 5

Whereas Sam would get clingy and overemotional when sick his brother was the complete opposite. Dean always had a strange aversion to comfort when ill and after his time in hell just a brief touch would set him on edge. It was for that very reason Sam was not surprised after searching for almost an hour he found his brother curled up as tight as possible, underneath a table in a hidden room of the bunker.  
Crouching as much as his legs would let him, he reached for his brother’s shoulder pulling back when Dean flinched away even though his back was facing towards him, almost as if he could sense the imminent touch. Sam tried not to take it personally, it’s not like it was new behavior, but it got to him sometimes.

“Dean?” He called softly inching backwards as to not make his brother feel cornered in.

“Wha…?”

“What’cha doing under there dude? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Research. Now leave me alone.”

“Yeah sure, you’re as sick as a dog. You need to be resting-“

“I _am_ resting.”

“I thought you were doing research.”

“I can do bo-“ He broke off in a wet, congested cough.

“That doesn’t sound good man. Just…rest for a bit ok? Then you can get back to your…research.”

Dean was silent for a moment before slowly making his way from underneath the table and Sam finally got a good look at the elder Winchester. Dean was frighteningly pale, a faint sheen of sweat covering his skin. With half-lidded eyes he attempted to glare at Sam but in his weakened state it fell flat. Without thinking he reached forward to help steady Dean, who immediately stumbled away on unsteady feet heading towards his room. Sam followed closely behind making sure to keep a safe distance. Surprisingly when they reached their destination Dean didn’t close the door behind him but immediately crawled beneath the covers burrowing so deep that only the top of his unruly dark blond hair poked through. _He must really feel like crap_. He waited till his brother’s breath evened out before grabbing the impala’s keys.

 

………………………….

 

When Sam gets back from the pharmacy, arms full of Gatorade, ginger ale, Puffs, and all manner of medication, Dean had gotten worse. At some point he’d kicked his sheets off and they bunched up around his feet. Small tremors racked his body as he shifted restlessly, shirt sticking to his sweat drenched skin. That was another difference between him and Dean. While he would run a high temperature for a short while before getting better Dean’s sickness was unpredictable and uncontrollable. It would go from bad to better to worst to okay to unbelievably bad. He couldn’t help but remember the time he and Dean were at Bobby’s while his dad went off on one of his solo hunts. His brother’s fever rose so quickly and so unexpectedly that Bobby had no time to get any medication in him. They had to dunk the feverish 16 year old in a tub of cool water to bring the fever down. It worked for all of an hour before his temperature sky-rocketed once again. Although the memory is hazy he remembered the ice cold tendrils of fear that settled in his lungs during the drive to the Sioux Falls Hospital, a delirious and thrashing Dean in the backseat.

Perching on the edge of the bed Sam took the risk and placed the palm of his hand over Dean’s forehead and frowned at the sheer amount of heat rolling off his brother. The only indication Dean gave that he was aware of Sam’s presence was a subtle shift to dislodge his hand but other than that he remained still, eyes flitting underneath their lids. Sam shifted his grip to his shoulder and shook gently.

“Dean? You need to get up for a bit for me, ok? Just for a minute and you can get back to sleep.”

“L’me lone b...tch” Dean managed to groan curling up on his side.

After a couple minutes of coaxing he managed to wrestle Dean into an upright position and pushed the pills past his brother’s lips and held a bottle of water up for him to drink before Dean slid back against the pillows and fell into another fitful sleep. Shifting around until he sat next to his brother’s sleeping form; he leaned against the headboard looking down at the prone body next to him. Crossing his arms he closed his eyes tilting his head back until it rested against the wall. _Just for a minute. I’ll close my eyes just for a minute…_

He was abruptly woken by sound of pained retching and a heavy weight across his lap. Blinking the room into focus he realized Dean was sprawled across him to empty the meager contents of his stomach into the trash can next to the bed. Sam felt Dean’s stomach muscles spasm against his legs before he once again gripped the edge of the mattress as he dry heaved over the side of the bed.

“Hey hey hey, it’s ok Dean. I gotcha. You’re ok.” He murmured reassuring nonsense as he rubbed small circles on Dean’s lower back. Eventually Dean slid off of Sam and settled once again on his side staring up at his younger brother with glassy, red rimmed eyes. Surprisingly he remained quiet when Sam started to thread fingers through his sweat soaked hair, choosing instead to close his eyes and fall still. They stayed in companionable silence until Dean spoke in a voice barely a whisper.

“S’not so bad. Not like tha’ other time…That time was bad…”

Intrigued Sam continued his impromptu head massage but leaned forward to hear better.

“What do you mean? What was bad?”

“Got really sick, stopped breathing… the doctors had t’bring me back a couple times. It was ok. Dad broke a rib giving me CPR…but, it doesn’t matter its not as bad…as that time…” With that Dean slipped away into another restless sleep.

_What._

Sam was frozen, desperately racking his brain, trying to remember a time where his brother was sick enough to almost die, _did_ die. Several times. And he came up empty. How did he not know?  
He thought it was bad enough to see his brother hurt but not knowing was even worse. The thought of his brother dying while he, unaware, was doing God knows what left him feeling panicky and his hand quickly darted forward to rest over his brother’s heart, a desperate need for physical assurance that he was alive and ok. But the steady beating underneath his palm wasn’t enough, to his complete embarrassment he found that at some point he’d started to _freaking cry_. It made no sense. Dean was here. He was ok. He didn’t die and the strong heartbeat beneath his hand and the steady rise and fall of his chest was proof enough. Yet here he was sniveling like a little kid. Once again he looked down at Dean and startled when he was met with Dean’s concerned green gaze. He sniffed trying to stop the tears that were bluring his vision and froze once again when he felt his brother’s hand gently tug at his wrist. Dean tugged again until Sam finally understood and slid down until he lay besides his brother. Dean watched him silently; face unreadable, before turning until his back was to Sam who hesitated for a moment before scooting closer until his chest was pressed firmly against his brother’s warm back wrapping an arm around his chest to once again hold his hand over Dean’s heart.

“Don’t wanna lose you Dean. I can’t.” Sam whispered brokenly. He’d lost so much already, if he lost his brother, the person he honestly couldn’t live without… He tightened his grip, burying his face between Dean’s shoulder blades.

Dean remained silent for a moment before slowly reaching up and squeezing the hand Sam held against his heart.

“I’m not going anywhere little brother. Not now, not ever.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam never told Dean and he probably never will. Every now and then, whenever he finds himself alone he takes out the wrinkled and worn letter and reads the words that he’s memorized years ago.

_Dear Mr. Winchester,_

_On behalf of Stanford University I am pleased to congratulate you on your acceptance into our program for the fall semester. We were very impressed by your academic history and believe that you will prove that our confidence in you is not unfounded._

It’s identical to his except it isn’t, its Dean’s.

As much as Dean would like it to be true, he wasn’t an idiot. Whereas Sam would spend hours everyday studying and reviewing to earn the grades he did, Dean only had to glance over the material once or twice and it would just stick. His grades were ok, John wouldn’t accept anything less, a problem child drew too much attention. Sam knew that if his brother really wanted to he could have gotten straight A’s.  
That day in the guidance counselor’s office, letting Mr. Montello’s words buzz around his head, his thoughts immediately went to Dean.

 _Choice of university._  
_Endless possibilities._  
_Anything you want to be._  
_Bright Future._

 _Bright Future._ He’d never admit how much it scared him, still scares him that it’s a real possibility that one day his brother would go on a hunt that would ultimately be his last. Torn apart by a Wendigo, drowned by a siren, eviscerated by a demon; the possibilities were endless and gruesome. And not what he wanted for someone he cared about so deeply. So he managed to convince his brother to take the SATs. Dude, might as well take it, it wouldn’t hurt. He got letters of recommendation from Dean’s teachers, the one’s he didn’t rub the wrong way that is. He even got a sample of his brother’s writing, a rare composition in which Dean actually took the assignment seriously. Sam did everything possible to make this pipe dream into something plausible. Months later when he opens the small P.O. Box that only he knew about and finds the letter his hands shake with anticipation and he has to fight the urge to shout with joy.  
They finally have a chance. A way to escape from their life of blood, and death and unimaginable _pain_.

A bright future.

 

His plan falls apart that night. He meant to show Dean, show their dad a different path. A path that ended with them healthy and out of harm’s way; succumbing to old age instead of a gruesome death of supernatural origin. But none of that happens because he gets into another petty argument with his father. He storms out, with just a duffel and the letter crammed into his back pocket, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The years at Stanford he thinks often.

_Dean would love this class._

_He’d get along with this professor._

_I wish he were here with me._

_I miss him._

_I should have tried harder._

_I could have saved him._

_I really, really miss him._

_He could be dead and I’d never know._

_Please please please be ok._

 

On the days he takes the letter from its usual residence in his duffel he thinks of all the things he and his brother have gone through that could have been avoided. Hell, Purgatory, Demons, Angels, betrayal and loss. He thinks of these things and realizes that all he’s ever really wanted was he and his brother together. Although things haven’t turned out the way he envisioned all those years ago sitting in Mr. Montello’s office, he’s happy, genuinely happy.

He puts the letter away just as Dean comes in juggling bags of takeout.

“You really had to carry it all at one time?” He raises an eyebrow when he sees a bag clenched between the elder Winchester’s teeth. Dean kicks the door shut behind him before dumping his cargo on the nearby table.

“Real men only take _one_ trip. Not that you would know anything about that Samantha.” Dean grins to let Sam know he’s joking.

“Jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment if you'd like, I'd love to hear what you thought/felt.


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